Promises
by kittymchale
Summary: "Pinky promise," I replied, sticking out my pinky to her...What don't they realize? What is it about her? Mike/Santana goodness, from Mike's POV.
1. Angles

**'sup. so, this is a Mike/Santana fic for you guys haha they intrigue me, i guess. once again, all of the idea credit goes to Shadesz. i am so uncreative haha enjoy, beautiful raccoons!**

Chapter 1: Angles

"Oh my God," I could hear Brittany whisper from down the vacant hallway, clapping her hand over her gaping mouth. Santana had her pinky linked with Brittany's free hand, stifling a giggle. Her snorting bounced and echoed off of the walls. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion as the twelve identical blue slushies came raining down on me, the frozen liquid slapping me in the face. I could feel it trickling down my spine, soaking through the back of my shirt. Dripping on to the floor, the stains trailed through my ripped, blue jeans, creeping through my shoes. I was humiliated, the entire football team sent cracking up down the hallway. My heart pounded in my ears as I looked at Karofsky crossing his arms in front of me. I shook my arms off, freeing them from the icy mess. Enraged, I flung my yellow flannel on to the ground, pushing Karofsky against a bland, red locker.

"What the hell?" I screamed, attempting to pin him down. My feet shuffled under me, trying to keep my balance. Karofsky smirked, grabbing handfuls of my soiled, white undershirt. Brittany and Santana were still watching intently, trying to decode the situation.

"Nothing, lady-boy. It's not my fault you picked the big gay club for dancing...gays over football!" Karofsky spat, moving his face closer, trying to intimidate me. His reeking breath smelled of Doritos and rotten tuna fish. I coughed at the stench, disgust building up inside of me. He shoved me back with gruff hands, making me stumble back toward the other side of the hallway. I ran forward, growling under my breath. I swung my arms out in front of me, my closed fist connecting with Karofsky's face. His head hit against the side of an open locker, a nasty crack escaping his nose. Blood dripped down on to the floor, seeping through Karofsky's fingers, attempting to stop the blood from flowing. Karofsky cried out in the dry school air, whipping his head back.

"YOU'RE DEAD, CHANG!" Karofsky raged, sprinting toward me. The steps echoed through the halls, his sprint slower than my jog. I ducked under his whirling arms, sliding around behind him. Barely dodging his punches, I jumped up and hooked a dirty shoe around Karofsky's calf. Shifting my hands on to his shoulders, I pulled Karofsky to the floor, still frozen with slushie. The "thump" radiated through the hallways, Brittany and Santana clapping rapidly. I stared at my fallen opponent, covered in slushie and blood. He rubbed his hands over his face in defeat, tracking the red liquid over his forehead. He spit, a tooth dropping on to the cold tile. I stood in front of him, my mouth hung open. What had I just done? Santana walked over to me, linked her arm under mine and pulled me away. My feet started to move backward, eyes not moving from Karofsky's pained face. Blood was oozing down his cheeks, leaving tiny puddles near his face. I ran my free hand through my hair, tangled and stuck together. Santana looked up at me, raising her eyebrow.

"That was pretty badass, Chang," Santana said coolly, a sweet smirk toying with her lips. I took a breath, shaking off the fight. Karofsky was going to kill me in my sleep, I just knew it. Brittany copied Santana's movements, grabbing on to my other arm. I just nodded, the words tangling themselves up in my throat.

"I have to clean up," I replied, clearing my throat. I slipped into the bathroom, leaving Santana with a tiny, subtle wink. I didn't know why I did. I didn't like Santana, but she was a girl, and I was studly. I could hear the cheerleaders giggling out in the hallway, mixed in with fast-paced whispers. Groaning, I stared at myself in the mirror, studying every aspect of my slushied self. My black, wet hair stuck messily to my face, sloppily sprawled in every direction. My undershirt was soaked, a light blue color covering the majority, mingling with deep, red splotches of Karofsky's spilled blood. My pants appeared the same way. I looked like I had been painting or something. My hands found my sticky hair, molding it into a dorky mohawk. I didn't know how Puck could wear his hair like that. It made me feel like a wanna-be skater boy. My hands fumbled for the faucet, hot water streaming into the small, marble sink. My eyes never left the mirror, watching my hair flip out of it's goofy position. Shifting to my knees, I started to wash the drying slushie out of my hair, rinsing each strand diligently. Once it was clean enough from my impromptu shower, I dried it gingerly with a paper towel and headed out of the bathroom. I crept down the hallway, careful not to make too much noise. I didn't know if Karofsky was waiting for me for a second round of fighting. I doubted it, especially with a broken nose. I headed back to the crime scene, scanning over the damage I had done. The floor looked like it had been mopped with blue slushie. Small piles of ice clustered together, a stream of blue juice trailing down the hallway. It filled the cracks in the tiled floors, drying in it's position.

"Damn," A harsh whisper behind me groaned, startling me. I nearly broke my neck whipping around to the source of the noise. My hand flew up to my chest.

"Santana," I breathed, glancing at the cheerleader in front of me. She was balancing on one foot, examining the bottom of her white shoe. It had a huge, blue blotch marking the center, taking up most of her foot. Bouncing on her tired leg, Santana's ponytail swung from side to side, occasionally hitting her in the face. I rushed over to her, her foot slipping out from under her. I caught her in my bruised arms, both of them curling under Santana's upper back. Her face contorted in fake anger, acting like she didn't need my help.

"I would have been perfectly fine. You didn't need to 'rescue' me," Santana snapped, making air quotes around "rescue". I pushed her back on to her feet, scoffing. Santana smoothed the skirt of her cheerleading uniform, her arms folding across her chest, "Just because I thought your fighting was cool, doesn't mean I'm into you, Chang." Santana's eyebrow was raised in it's usual "I'm better than you" position.

I scoffed again, "Did you want to fall and break your face? I didn't think so. I was just helping you up. Relax, Lopez," I emphasized her last name, snarling like Santana did for mine. Santana rolled her eyes at me, shifting her weight to her left foot.

"What's your angle?" Santana squinted, watching my facial expressions carefully. I mimicked her position jokingly.

"What's _your _angle?" I asked, squinting back at her. We were both silent for a few seconds, Santana's lips quivering. Santana broke her serious expression, shaking with laughter. She bent over, grabbing on to her knees. We were both cracking up, gasping for air. Once the laughing subsided, Santana went back to how she was, her face composed.

"You tell no one of this," Santana warned, pointing a finger at me. A tiny smile was curling the sides of her lips.

"Pinky promise," I replied, sticking out my pinky to her. Santana accepted my offer, linking us together for a split second. Clearing her throat, she bent over, searching for something in her purse. She tossed me my bright yellow flannel.

"This was in the hallway. I didn't think you wanted to lose it," Santana smiled, flashing me all of her teeth, "See you later." She left me in the hallway with that, leaving the school. It was after glee club and football practice, so I didn't really know why I was there. I didn't know why, but I wanted to see Santana more. I was mixed up. All I needed to do then was protect my throat, because Karofsky was going to come after it, one way or another.

**short, i know. more soon! this will indeed, be a multi-chapter fic. (i love you guys!)**


	2. Real Buddies

**same old song and dance...i'm sorry for being so late. don't hate me. love youuu, pretty pandas. (thanks to Shadesz for putting up with my crazy-ness...this is for you, brain twin haha)**

Chapter 2: Real Buddies

The next day, I walked into school holding my breath. Pushing open the hideous yellow door, I braced myself for any punches that might come flying toward my face. I brought my hands up cautiously, my eyes flitting around the crowded hallway.

"What are you doing?" A smooth, judgy voice came from behind me. It was sarcastic and joking, with a hint of curiosity. I snapped my head around, fast enough to break my neck. It was Santana, her arms folded neatly on her stomach, a tiny smirk playing with the corners her lips. Her deep brown eyes were squinted, attempting to decode my stance. A heavy breath escaped my lips.

"Santana," I breathed, my arms gluing themselves to my sides. I cleared my throat awkwardly, digging for an excuse for my actions, "Erm, nothing." I replied stupidly, Santana shifting her weight to her left foot.

"Don't worry your little Asian head, Karofsky's not here today," Santana joked, ruffling my hair. She had to reach up on her tiptoes and extend her arm as far as it would stretch, smiling brightly.

"Shut up," I chuckled, pushing her hand away, "It's not funny." Santana instinctively linked arms with me, a miniature spring marking each one of her steps. Other students buzzed around us, shooting us both strange glares. Santana didn't seem to notice, ignoring each of the death stares. I didn't know how she could just float through the insane halls, strutting around like she owned the place. I was used to being gawked at for being on the football team and being a badass dancer, but never judgy, pressuring ones. I wasn't one to be confronted with stressful situations. I just kind of shrugged them off on to someone else. I didn't like to deal with problems. That's probably why I was dumped so much.

"Jeez, Mike. Stop acting like a girl," Santana teased, watching my eyebrows furrow at each pair of eyes that seemed to scoff at me. I shook myself from the looks, facing ahead again, "Be cool."

"What do you mean, 'be cool'? I am trying my best here, Santana," I murmured, not removing my eyes from a cheesy motivational poster that was hung up on the door in front of me. Santana chuckled quietly.

"Like this," Santana smiled, letting go of my arm. She disappeared into a classroom for a quick moment, coming back out with a blue, plastic chair. Setting it up gingerly in the middle of the hallway, she climbed on top of it, holding her balance perfectly. She was swift and graceful, not making a sound. Standing tall, Santana brought her hands to her mouth, cupping them around her lips. Taking a deep breath, Santana started to yell, "Hey! Hey, LISTEN UP!" Time seemed to slow as everyone in the hallways stopped moving, staring with wide eyes at the cheerleader that was spontaneously screaming in a crowded hall, "See this guy right here?" She questioned, pointing to me. I could feel the hot blood pulsing under my cheeks as all of they eyes turning to me, random mumbles radiating from the crowd, "This guy is the reason Karofsky is out of school. Yeah, that's right, this guy _broke _Karofsky's nose!" Santana finished her impromptu speech, jumping off of the chair. Woops and shouts arose from the mob, mingling with a few claps and high fives. A couple of girls I'd seen before in Spanish class gave me hugs, quick kisses on the cheek and pats on the back. They walked away giggling, one of them, a tall redhead, winking to me. Santana resumed her position at my side, beaming, "Now, that's how you be cool."

"You're crazy, Lopez," I told her, nudging her side with my elbow.

"I know," Santana replied simply, shrugging at the comment. We walked down the hallways, separating to our different classes.

I had Spanish class first, plopping down in my assigned seat next to Quinn. I didn't exactly pay attention all of the time, so, Mr. Schue decided to put me next to Quinn to keep me "in line". Halfway through Mr. Schuester's lesson, Quinn slipped a neatly folded note under my hand. I gave Quinn a slow, confused look, opening up the piece of paper.

_Are you and Santana a thing?_

I ran my fingers through my hair, puffing out my cheeks in frustration. I picked up the blue pen that was resting next to my right hand, worn down from using it so much. I scrawled down a quick note, careful not to get caught.

_No. We're friends. Even if we were, what would it matter to you, anyway? _

I folded the paper back into place, handing the note back to Quinn. Inconspicuously, Quinn read the messy writing on the page, scoffing lightly. She scribbled furiously on the paper, sliding it back to me angrily.

_I'm just saying, watch yourself. Santana's like a praying mantis. She'll use you for sex, but instead of biting your head off, she'll kick you to the side of the road to join the rest of the boys that she's used. Do you know how many that is? 24. 24 boys. Sure, maybe she'll call you back for another hook-up or 2, but she doesn't want a relationship and __definitely__ not a friendship. Have fun dealing with all of that baggage, Mike. You are __real__ smart, you know. Aim for a girl who won't break your heart. I don't want to hear that crap that you are "just friends." Santana doesn't roll with being "just friends". You can tell everyone that for a while, but you know Santana has bigger motives._

I finished reading Quinn's perfect cursive, infuriated by her words. Even though I knew her words were true, I didn't want to believe them. I didn't want to believe that Santana would stoop so low. I didn't want to believe that the new friend that I had made would do something like that. I had to think of a response for a while, chewing on the end of my pen. My brain was picking itself for an appropriate statement in return. I ended up putting the most simple words on the page, unable to write anything else.

_I guess we'll see what happens._

Quinn shot me a condescending look in return, half out of pity. She shook her head at me, knowing she'd won. I raised my eyebrows at her, accented by the classroom phone ringing. Mr. Schue rushed over to answer it, spoke quickly and hung the phone back up.

"Mike, you need to go to the office," Mr. Schue told me simply, signaling toward the door. I snuck slowly out the door, casually walking down the empty halls. I entered the office, the first thing I see being Santana, sitting in a dingy orange chair, an ice pack being held on her forehead. She gave me a weak wave.

"What the hell, Santana?" I asked, surprised by her position.

"That's kind of why you're here," Santana said gradually, setting the makeshift ice pack made of a plastic bag and a few ice cubes down on the chair beside her, "See, I was in Study Hall, and some redheaded bitch started talking crap about me, so I hit her." Santana told me, talking mostly with her hands.

"Tell me exactly what happened," I spoke clearly, waiting impatiently for her response.

"So, there I was, sitting on the normal desk where I usually sit, even if I get yelled at every day for sitting on top of it, not using it. Anyway, I heard this redhead talking about me to her little group of minions." Santana began, cut off by my voice.

"What was she saying, exactly?" I asked, purely out of curiosity.

"Santana is such a little slut, stealing my man. I can't believe that whore gets all of these good guys when all she does is sleep around. I feel bad for them, you know. She's stealing their virginities like taking candy from a baby," Santana told me, imitating the girl, Natalie, in a high, mocking voice. Santana scoffed, growling under her breath.

"Okay, go on," I urged, hungering for more of her story. Santana cleared her voice, getting back to her speech.

"Anyway, I turned around staring at her straight in the eyes," Santana said, pointing to her eyes, "Then, I said, "What did you say about me?", snapping in her face. Then, she turned to me, with the nerve to pretend she didn't know what I was talking about, saying, "What are you talking about?" acting all innocent and sweet. That was the last straw. I slapped her, right in the side of the face. She goes flying off of the desk she was sitting at and stands back up slower than a freaking turtle, running after me. She grabs on to my ponytail, pulling me on to the ground. She hits my forehead against a desk and we wrestle around for a few seconds before Ms. Dechow tries to pull us apart. This bitch just stands still while I am trying to fight out of this teacher's grip, Matt's and Finn's. I escaped for a second or two, and got sent to this hellhole of a room." Santana finished, grabbing up the ice pack again.

"Wow. I don't mean to be rude, but why am _I _here?" I asked her, drawing my eyebrows together. Santana crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her thighs.

"Oh, because besides Britt, you are the only reliable person I can have in here to defend me," Santana replied, her face softening a little bit.

"We're real buddies, aren't we?" I asked, teasing Santana lightly. I sat down next to her, receiving a punch on the arm.

"Shut up, Chang," Santana giggled, tilting her head to rest it on my shoulder. Her hair was sprawled messily on my back, shifting it behind her head. It was out of it's usual ponytail, pulled out from the fight.

"Never," I replied, laughing again, "We're real buddies."

**new chapter sooooon. i love you guys...i really do.**


	3. Locked Out

**pure fluff, y'all. i hope this chapter will do...this mediocre chapter i tried to write haha**

Chapter 3: Locked Out

"You got suspended for _3 days_? What did Natalie get?" I asked, sitting on the park bench outside of my house. Santana was sitting next to me, swinging her feet. Until then, I never saw Santana in normal clothes outside of glee club. She was wearing tattered, dark blue skinny jeans and a loose pink top, the bottom falling just below her waist. Her hair was let down, swaying easily in the gentle breeze.

"She only got a week of after-school detention," Santana said angrily, gnawing on the words. She was tracing the bench patterns absent-mindedly with her right hand, drawing in the space between us. She didn't seem genuinely angry, just indifferent. She turned to look at me, "Pinky promise you'll come visit me?" Santana asked me, holding out her pinky once again. I linked my pinky with hers, taking up her offer.

"Pinky promise," I told her, shaking my hand around a little bit. Santana smiled brightly at me, a real smile. She had perfect teeth, white and gorgeous. Santana let go of my hand, standing up from the bench. She stretched lazily, sighing.

"You're boring me," Santana said jokingly, "Let's go do something fun." She started walking away, kicking a pebble with her black, worn out Converse. I scraped myself off of the bench, running to catch up to her. Santana giggled and started sprinting toward my house. That girl could run. I started after her faster, reaching my house before she got there. I stepped in front of the door, blocking her out. Santana was laughing wildly, running up the steps. I spread my arms across the door, resting one hand on the door knob, "Let me in!" Santana squealed, poking me in the stomach.

"Nope, sorry, I can't do that," I joked, strengthening my stance in front of the entrance. Santana squinted at me, walking back down the steps. Walking over to the side of my house, she disappeared around the blind corner, "What are you doing?" I called to her, frozen in my place. Silence. I turned toward the spot I last saw Santana, forgetting the door. I heard the creaking of our old windows. With that, I sprinted around the corner of my house, trying to catch her before she climbed in through my window. My eyes darted around the vacant spot where she should have been. Nothing. I ran to the window, peering inside. Nothing there either, "Santana!" I groaned, waiting for her voice. I spun around, running back to the door. There she was, opening the door I was supposed to be guarding. She slammed the door behind her. I shook the door knob, unable to open it. She locked it. Santana was cracking up inside.

"Sucks to be you, Chang," Santana called, heavy sarcasm in her voice. I pounded my fist on the door, begging her to unlock the door.

"Come on, Santana. Let me in!" I pleaded, jiggling the door knob, even though it wouldn't make a difference.

"Why should I?" Santana asked, her voice smiling at me. She started drumming her fingers on the counter next to the door.

"Because we are buddies? Santana, it's my house!" I called to her, banging on the door again. Santana giggled, mischievious and deceiving.

"I need a better reason than that!" She replied, nearly cackling. That's when I remembered the spare key. I reached up on the door frame, searching for the key. Nothing was there.

"Santana! Did you take the spare key?" I yelled to her, surprised she knew where it was.

"Yeah. You Changs aren't very good at hiding keys," Santana told me, jingling the key. I growled at her, "Oh, stop. You know you love me," Santana joked, unlocking the door. I snorted as I walked in the door. Santana threw her arms around me, "Come on." Santana urged, hugging me tighter to her. I gave up the act, hugging her back. Santana smiled brighter, returning our spare key to it's proper place.

"Thank you," I mumbled, starting up the stairs to my room. Santana froze in the middle of the living room floor like I tried to attack her or something, "Are you coming upstairs?" I asked her, furrowing my eyebrows. Santana nodded and walked toward me, heading up the stairs.

"It's weird. I don't think I've ever been in a guy's room without having sex with them in years," Santana mumbled as we entered my room. She plopped down on the bed, forgetting the comment she made moments earlier, "Sing." Santana urged, her face relaxing.

"Okay," I said reluctantly, reaching for the acoustic guitar next to the bean bag chair I was sitting in. I had been practicing it for a long time, wanting to play it in glee club. I was a shy guy, but I wanted to break out of this stupid shell I'd been trapped in. I started playing the first thing that came to mind, not worrying about hitting the right notes with my scrambling fingers. That's when I introduced my voice to Santana, joining the guitar's melody.

_This night's a perfect shade of_

_ Dark blue (dark blue)_

_ Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you?_

_ I said the world could be burning (burning) down_

_ Dark blue (dark blue)_

_ Have you ever been alone in a crowded room? Well,I'm here with you_

_ I said the world could be burning dark blue_

Santana gasped a little when I started to sing, definitely not expecting the voice that came out of me. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, watching me intently. Her hands were folded neatly on her lap, her eyes sparkling. I had never seen Santana so amazed before. She licked her lips, clearing her throat at the same time.

"Wow. That was beautiful," Santana told me, her voice filled with awe, " I didn't expect that." Santana confirmed my thoughts, "Do you know the song, "Grey Street"?" Santana asked me, glancing at the guitar.

"Vaguely, but I can try," I told her, my hands fumbling on the instrument. Santana nodded, urging me to start. With that, I did, my brain ordering my hands around the guitar. Santana's voice, rich and soft, aided the guitar in it's mediocre melody.

_Oh, look at how she listens_

_ She says nothing of what she thinks_

_ She just goes stumbling through her memories_

_ Staring out on to Grey Street. _

_ She thinks, "Hey, how did I come to this?_

_ I dreamed myself a thousand times around the world_

_ But I can't get out of this place!"_

Santana was singing the words with raw power and emotion, but still pretended she wasn't really meaning a word she was saying.

_There's an emptiness inside her_

_ And she'll do anything to fill it in_

_ But all the colors mix together - to grey_

_ And it breaks her heart_

She kind of made it hard to breathe with the beauty of her voice. It inspired me, just for a moment. I felt like my soul was being lifted out of me, kind of like I was worth nothing compared to her. My heart beat oddly, my eyes flickering back and forth. Santana's eyes were pained, like she was re-living a nightmare. It amazed me how she could be hurt so bad, but could still reel me in. When the song finished, I was sent crashing back down to Earth, quickly rehabilitating from the fall. My eyes were glossed over, I could just tell. I didn't care. My eyes told the truth.

"What?" Santana questioned, waving a hand at me. I cleared my throat awkwardly.

"Nothing. That was very, very beautiful," I told her, stumbling on the words. I wasn't going to lie. That was the most gorgeous thing I've heard in my life. Santana smiled slightly, all the warmth in the world hiding behind her lips. Santana's eyes flicked to the tiny clock that was hanging lazily on the wall.

"Crap," Santana groaned, smacking herself on the forehead, "I'm late." Santana said simply, signaling me to come with her. I set my guitar down, running out the door with her.

"Where are we going?" I asked her, heading back down the stairs.

"You have to take me home," Santana told me, worry in her voice.

"Why?" I questioned, obviously needing to know.

"I need to babysit my brother. My dad gets all pissy if he can't leave to work on time," Santana explained, "My dad works nights, so he already hates his job." I didn't say anything else, just nodded. We ran out of the house, jumping into my old, rusted truck. Santana started shaking her leg impatiently, drumming her fingers on her knees. I drove as quick as I could, Santana completely silent. It was odd. Santana always had something to say.

"Are you okay?" I asked, genuinely concerned. We were about 3 minutes away from her house, but I felt like I had to ask. Santana shot me a look.

"I'll tell you later. I don't have time right now," Santana chewed on her lip nervously. The road seemed endless before we finally pulled into Santana's driveway. She gave me a quick hug and a tiny kiss on the cheek, "Thank you so much." Santana told me as she jumped out of my truck, waving weakly. She sprinted into her own house as I pulled out of her driveway, heading back to where I lived. Back to where just minutes ago, I heard the most gorgeous thing I'd ever heard. All I knew is that this had to happen again. I would visit her tomorrow to straighten things out, ask her what the problem was.

I wasn't sure, but I think I was falling for Santana.

**does that last sentence make sense? i hope it does hahaha...love youuuu guys...new chapter tomorrow, i hope!**


	4. Admitting

**'sup? Really, how are you guys? **

Chapter 4: Admitting

The very next day, I was standing outside of Santana's house, knocking on the door. The driveway was vacant, so I figured that no one was home. It was definitely a good thing. There was too much to discuss to be distracted. Santana greeted me at the door, cautious at first. She was sort of gaurding her face, making sure of who I was before she put her hands down. She pulled me into a hug as soon as she saw me.

"Mike," Santana said, letting me go, "Thank you so much for coming." She breathed a sigh of relief, guiding me indoors. She kept her hand on my forearm, like if she let go, I would float away. Her cold fingertips stuck on my arm as we retreated to her bedroom. We didn't need any words to know what we were supposed to be doing. It was seamless, knowing what would be said anyway. As soon as we got in, Santana shoved the door closed, plopping down on the bed. She patted her bedspread, offering me a seat. I obliged, scooting in next to her. Sitting up, she rested her head on my shoulder, sighing. I didn't want her to move her head, but I had to turn to face her.

"What was going on with your dad?" I asked her, trying to warm up her hands. Santana shuddered a bit, rolling her eyes. Even in the typical Santana response she gave me, I could still see a glimmer of pain tinting her big, brown eyes.

"Nothing," Santana blew my question off, pretending nothing was going on. I raised a critical eyebrow at her.

"Tell the truth," I demanded, staring straight into her eyes. They were so clear, the sunshine reflecting off of them. She furrowed her eyebrows in distress.

"You don't want to hear about my problems," Santana groaned, flopping down on the bed. She threw a flower shaped pillow at me, hitting me in the face. I mimicked her, falling down on the bed.

"Yes, I do," I told her, being completely honest, "Look, San, you're my best friend. I'm here to listen." I was throwing the flower pillow up in the air repeatedly, catching it every time.

"That sounded extremely cheesy," Santana groaned, a smile still in her voice, "I guess I should tell you." Santana mumbled, knocking the pillow out of my hands.

"Please, do," I told her, sitting back up. I waited patiently for her response, the smile completely wiped off of her face. She became emotionless, her face a blank slate. She was completely composed, sitting as still as stone. I saw her lips quiver a little bit in anticipation of the words that would follow, "Sometimes, my dad will hit me." Santana said, tears rushing to her eyes. In a matter of seconds, my heart rate flew through the roof. I just felt frantic, not knowing what to say. I responded in the best way I could, pulling Santana into the tightest hug I've ever given.

"Oh my God, Santana," I breathed, rocking back and forth. Santana started to cry, tears soaking into my shirt, "Santana." I kept repeating, holding her closer.

"I mean, it's not all of the time. Only if I don't do exactly what I'm supposed to or get home late," Santana choked out, muffled and cracked, "But he's never nice. He's never been a father to me. I've never been happy. Paying for everything with the money my mom left when she passed away isn't the way I want to live." Santana sobbed, holding me tighter. She squeezed me as close as I would go, making sure I would never let go of her.

"Santana, I can help you," I whispered to her, my hot breath mingling with her tears. Santana scoffed lightly.

"How, Mike? How can you possibly help me?" Santana breathed, crying harder. I had never seen Santana so broken, so in need of help. I just wanted to help her in any way, my desperate, panicking arms grasping her.

"You know my parents will let you stay at my house as long as you want, along with your brother," I soothed, rubbing her back. Santana's tears came even fiercer, sobs shaking her. I tried to keep her stable, failing miserably.

"Ryan lives with my grandma. He just comes over on Tuesday nights and gets treated like a king," Santana explained, shifting herself on to my lap. She needed someone to hold her and I didn't mind being the one to do it, "Why do you think I sleep around, Mike? It's because I'm looking for that manly figure in my life," Santana tried to explain. I nodded, understanding what she was attempting to say.

"I'm there for you, San," I comforted, holding her as close as I could. She was plastered to my chest, tears holding her to me like glue. Santana peeled her face off of my shoulder, looking me in the eyes.

"You really mean it? You pinky promise?" Santana choked, her eyes glossy and pink. I nodded to her, being genuinely honest. Hooking pinkies with her, we were connected again, even if it was only for a few seconds. I wanted to be there for her through everything, no matter how tough the situation was. Santana's eyes darted around my face for a moment, searching for something. After a split second, Santana pressed her lips to mine, gentle, but desperate. It felt rushed, but everything I was waiting for. It wasn't about a hook-up anymore for her, not that it was in the first place. I had given her everything she was digging for, letting her sit in peace. She pulled away from me, her eyes fluttering. Suddenly, Santana's face went frantic again, panicking about something, "Oh my God, I'm so sorry. I thought that's what you wanted." Santana fretted, pulling her arms off of me. She tried to get up, but I didn't let her go.

"Don't worry. Everything's okay," I whispered, shifting Santana's arms back around me. Santana relaxed again, breathing quickly. I held her close again, rocking lightly, "You'll come with me." Santana nodded in approval, tears still spilling over.

I let Santana cry for a while, just holding and hushing her. I just wanted to be there for her, however I could. After that, I helped her pack. Santana threw things in a large, pink duffel bag as quick as she could, longing to get out of her house.

"Are we dating, now?" Santana asked as she packed, not looking at me. I pondered the question, tasting each word carefully.

"I don't know, are we?" I replied with another question, making Santana turn to me.

"I guess so," Santana answered, pressing a finger to her chin.

"Okay, then," I replied, a tiny smile toying with the corners of Santana's lips. She kissed me again, this time more meaningful and slow. She pulled away, a bright smile splayed across her face.

"Let's go, please," Santana begged, slinging the bag up on her shoulders, "I guess this is only temporary, but it will do for now," Santana assured, taking most of her things with her. With that, we left her room, heading down the stairs.

"I'll start the car," I told her, leaving her in the living room. I went outside, the cold, Lima air hitting me hard. When I got out to the driveway, my car wasn't the only one there. Santana's dad was home. As soon as I realized it, I ran full speed back to the door, jiggling the doorknob. Santana's dad locked me out. I heard a deep voice shrieking inside, followed by shaking, quivering sobs by a different voice. Santana's voice. A "smack" shook the entire house, radiating throughout the silent air. I started panicking, banging on the door as loud as I could. Another "smack" followed. Running around toward the back, I whipped open Santana's back door, running through the house to get back to where Santana was lying crumpled on the floor, a giant red mark across her cheek. I growled, turning into an extremely loud yell, outshining any one that had been yelled before.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I screamed in Santana's dad's face as he cowered away, "WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" His face turned to stone, sticking his chin out at me.

"I'm Santana's father! I can do whatever I want," Santana's dad retaliated, kicking Santana with the toe of his foot. I balled up my fists, begging myself not to hit him. Santana wouldn't have anything if I hit him. It would ruin her life even further. I pulled Santana up from the ground, holding her tight in my arms. I took her out of the room, heading out the back door.

"We're not coming back," I spat, taking Santana away. Santana's eyes were blank, no words in her mouth. I kept looking over at her, watching the empty, porcelain tears drip out of her eyes. They wer emotionless. No anger, no sadness. Nothing. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, dialing the number I never thought I'd need. My mom made me keep a list of crazy numbers, just in case. I called the Child Protection Services, getting a fakely concerned voice on the other line.

"I'd like to report a child abuse case," I said, worry ripping my voice to shreds. I had to help Santana, no matter how hard I had to try. She would be okay. I would make sure of it.

**a little angsty...hahaha...i love you, patient little swans!**


	5. Rescued

**FINALLY! I'm back! Sorry I really haven't been posting...Things can get really hard. **

**Love you all :)**

Chapter 5: Rescued

By the time I got back to my house, Santana was asleep on the car seat, her arms curled around her knees. I glanced over at her a few times. The air was completely dry and silent, besides the sound of Santana's frantic bursts of crying. During the ride, I reached over for her hand, holding it momentarily before Santana pulled it away. I took the hint that she didn't want to be touched at that moment, so I stared ahead at the road, letting Santana fall asleep on the seat next to me. She curled up into a ball, hiding herself from the rest of the world. I knew she needed a little bit of time to think about what had just happened, so I let her.

I pulled into my driveway, the gravel crunching under my tires. Santana's face was empty and pale, drained of everything. I got out of the car, jogging briskly over to the other side. I was careful opening the door, not dumping Santana out of the car. I unbuckled her seat, picking her up into my arms. Santana fluttered her eyelids, resting her cheek on my chest. She scooped her arms around my neck, hanging on with a loose, lifeless grip. My heart surged a little bit, knowing that Santana would never be as whole as she once was. I know I didn't really understand what it was like to be her, but I knew it was hard. I was sharing her pain at that moment, attempting to ease some of it off of her weary shoulders. It wasn't enough. The wave of emotion crashed over me, retreated, then crashed again. It was a small cycle of pain as I carried Santana up the steps to my room. I layed her carefully on the bed, quickly changing into pajama pants. I threw my shirt into my laundry basket, sweeping my eyes across the room. Santana was awake, but she didn't say a thing. She was just lying there, shivering, her face a blank slate.

"Do you want some pajamas, San?" I asked her, anticipating her response. Santana surprisingly sat up, her eyes burning with something I didn't know how to decipher. She bit her lip, her eyes trailing from my hair to my feet. I stood at the foot of my bed, raising an eyebrow.

"I think it would be better without them," Santana choked, regaining her voice. Her voice was low and mischievious. I stood there for a moment like an idiot while Satnana crawled across the bed, meeting me at the end. I felt her hands creep up to my shoulders, staring straight into my eyes. Santana's deep brown eyes were cloudy, like she wasn't all there. She looked frantic, like she was doing anything to get out of dealing with stress. Squirming her way up to my face, Santana left a deep, lingering kiss on my lips. It was delicious and meaningful, a real, genuine kiss. Oblivious to Santana's motives, I really felt the meaning in the kiss. She pulled away, her eyes wide. Santana repeated herself, this time deeper and more forcefully. Her hands found my hair, grabbing at it lightly. That's when I realized what was going to go down if I didn't stop her. Part of me didn't want to, but the good part of me knew I had to.

"San," I said, "You're going to regret this if you don't stop." I wasn't assertive at all. I sounded like freaking Ms. Pillsbury. I was giving her advice, not making her stop.

"No, I won't," Santana whispered in my ear, her breath hot on my face. She left a trail of kisses from my ear back to my lips again. I pulled away from her, stepping away from the foot of the bed. Santana crossed her arms, her face warping into this offended look.

"What, do you not like me? Did you turn g_ay _all of the sudden?" Santana asked me, raising a questioning eyebrow. I shook my head, scoffing.

"No, Santana. I'm just trying to help you. Do you really think you'll feel better if you have sex with me? Will everything go away? No," I said, Santana's face relaxing. I breathed, sitting down next to her on the bed, "Look, San, I really care about you. I don't want to ruin this by giving you sex to cope with your pain." Santana sighed, defeated.

"It's the only way I know, Mike. That's all I've ever done to cope with anything. When my mom died, I got with Puck. He was the first one. I didn't know really what to do. I just kind of layed there. I closed my eyes and shivered like an idiot because I was scared and it hurt. I didn't say anything because I didn't want to seem like a loser..." Santana trailed off, getting back to the point, "Ever since then, I've hooked up with a different guy any time I was hurt. But, you...I think you're different," Santana told me, laying down on one of the green pillows, "I think I actually really care about you." Santana mumbled, burying her head in the pillow. I layed down next to her, brushing the hair out of her face. I tucked it behind her ear carefully, careful not to poke her in the eye which I had done once before.

"I care a lot about you, too," I whispered to her, watching her blink back tears, "You're tired. You should probably sleep." I told her, getting a weak smile in return. Santana fluttered her eyelids again, the dim light sparkling off them. I studied her face again as she closed her eyes. Her fingers found mine, beautifully intertwining them. I couldn't tell when she fell asleep, but I never did. I stayed up that whole night, thinking hard about every single little thing that happened that day. Everything was moving so fast. Santana's father was currently being arrested, Santana didn't have a true home, she was in my bed...

Santana was in my bed.

I smiled to myself. I don't know why it all hit me at once, but I really realized what I had. I realized I had this beautiful girl next to me, sound asleep. This girl who didn't let anyone in, didn't trust anyone, didn't want anyone to know what was going on...was holding my hand. She was letting me in. She trusted me. She felt at home with me. That's really all I wanted. I just wanted to be next to her. I just wanted her to trust me.

I watched fragments of the moonlight dance off of my window, glinting off of the tiny wind chimes that were hanging there. They were given to me by my crazy Chinese grandfather. I had no idea what he wanted me to do with wind chimes, but I still liked them hanging there. They were slightly comforting. I glanced over to Santana again and again, looking closely at every little detail of her. I noticed that her cheeks puffed a bit after she was crying. I noticed the gentle slope of her face, how gracefully it connected to her neck. I noticed the length of her eyelashes and the little spots of mascara that dripped lazily down her face when everything was going on. Her skin was perfect, velvety and smooth.

I should have been sleeping, but I couldn't. I couldn't take my mind off of anything. I picked up my cell phone, checking the time. 1:53 A.M. The numbers glared in my face, blinding me momentarily. I closed my eyes forcefully, scolding myself to keep them closed. When I finally could, I joined Santana in a restless sleep.

Santana woke up before me, sitting up cross-legged on my bed. I felt her tracing her fingers on my bare stomach. I opened my eyes, grabbing on to the hand she was using.

"Good morning," I groaned, squeezing her tiny hand. She had long, skinny fingers. Piano fingers, my mom always said. I cracked a smile, "Are you feeling better today?"

"I'm invincible, Chang. I'm fine," Santana joked, ruffling my hair, "But in all seriousness, yes. I'm much better today." Santana told me, smiling. I could feel my heart flutter. How soft was I? Her teeth gleamed perfectly in the sunlight that poured through the window, "What are we doing today?" Santana asked, hopping up out of my bed. I noticed that she put on my football sweatshirt, hanging over her tiny frame like a dress. I shrugged.

"I have no idea," I said, looking at her carefully. Santana groaned.

"I'm going to go change," Santana said, grabbing her bag. She left the room, leaving me to go get dressed. I threw on some clothes and waited for her to get back. Once she did, she had a bright idea. Her face was lit up, snapping her fingers.

"I know exactly what we are going to do," Santana grabbed my hand and we were off.

**Reviews are my favorite, happy cats :)**


	6. Waterfalls and Phone Calls

Chapter 6: Waterfalls and Phone Calls

Santana jammed my keys into the truck, driving me to a mystery location.

"Santana, where are we going?" I asked her curiously, laughing at her getting irritated at my rusty, breaking truck. She smiled, brushing the loose hair out of her face as she drove. I saw her eyes light up, attempting to be happy. I could still see the sting in her big, brown eyes as she stared at the road. I held her free hand, the one she wasn't using to steer. She intertwined her fingers with mine, careful not to squeeze too tightly.

"Okay, you have to close your eyes," Santana said, the smile clearly displayed in her voice. I obliged, cupping my hand over my eyes, "No peeking." Santana giggled, pulling into a parking lot. I could hear the gravel rumble underneath us as Santana held her hand over mine so I wouldn't peek.

"San, I'm not going to peek," I laughed, slapping my other hand to my face. She started laughing, stopping the truck.

"Okay, keep your eyes closed. I'll help you out of the truck. Don't look," She demanded, hopping out of the cab. She slammed the door, her footsteps trailing over to my side. She threw the door open, slapping her hand over mine and helping me out. She slammed my door shut, leading me forward with her hands on my curled bicep, "Just a little further." She coaxed, taking me down a grassy, uncleared path. It was a lot further than she made it out to be, walking with my eyes closed for around twenty minutes.

"San," I groaned, getting tired of looking at the back of my eyelids. I tried to make out my environment, feeling occasional brushes of leaves on my arms and feeling Santana duck a few times to avoid being hit by anything. A few little pebbles got lodged into my shoes, uncomfortably shoved in the heel. I could hear a faint trickle of water around me before Santana let go of my arm.

"Open your eyes," Santana's airy voice declared, almost in awe. I opened my eyes, gasping at the sight in front of me. It was _beautiful_. Words couldn't describe the beauty of this place, no matter how long I used words to talk about it. We were in front of a gigantic waterfall, only around twenty feet away. There was a tiny ridge under us, dividing us from the splashing water underneath. Two little rivers on both sides of us, draining the clear pool of water out a little bit. Santana kept her touch light on my arm, staring around us like I was. The trees were low, leaning in toward the waterfall. Both sides were dotted with little bushes and tall grasses, colorful flowers added to the picture perfect scene in front of us. I noticed how clear the water was. You could almost see behind the falling water, "This is my favorite spot." Santana said, "But, no one knows about it. I like to call it my "secret place". You're the only one I know that knows about it now." She walked away, picking up a flat stone in her hand. Throwing it with precision, the stone skipped six times until it disappeared into the waterfall.

"How did you find this?" I asked, looking around me again. Santana shrugged indifferently.

"I went for a walk to get away from my dad. I kept walking until I found this little clearing," She said, throwing another stone, "Amazing, isn't it?" She smiled, eyes brightening again, "The water looks _super _clear. Maybe we could go swimming." Santana suggested, waiting for my response.

"San, it's May. The water's probably freezing," I said, my opinion not appreciated by the beating sun.

"Pansy," Santana chuckled, throwing off her shirt. She left her clothes in a little neat pile, standing in front of the ridge in just her underwear. I tried not to gape as she dove flawlessly into the water, "Just stay away from the currents!" She called from the water, cupping her hands over her mouth.

"I'm not a pansy!" I called back, leaving my clothes next to her's, "Move, before I jump on you!" I yelled, jumping in after her. The water was _cold. _I swam over to Santana, noticing the goosebumps forming on her skin. The water was constricting, pulling both of us in every direction. I leaned toward Santana, brushing the wet, sticky hair out of her face before kissing her lightly on the lips. She leaned into it, wrapping her arms gently around me. When we pulled away, Santana leaned back, balancing on the water's surface.

"You just have to kind of float there," Santana complained, floating on her back. I mimicked her position, linking arms so we wouldn't float away. We just laid there for a while, listening to the noise of the water dropping into the clear pool, closing our eyes as we floated. It was nice, even in the freezing water. It was just us. Nobody else was there to tell us what to do, how to love, when to do anything, what we are responsible for. Nothing, "I'm bored." Santana declared suddenly, swimming back to the ridge, "Come with me!" I swam after her, pulling ourselves effortlessly out of the water. I followed after her, walking on the rocks with no shoes on. We winced away, trying to walk without hurting ourselves. Santana intertwined her fingers with mine, pulling me through the grass, "Don't slip." Santana warned as she let go of my hand and stepped on the stuck-out rocks. She skipped easily over the little river, hopping toward the waterfall. I copied her, nearly slipping over the third jump. I didn't say anything, just followed intently as Santana started to step on the rocks leading behind the waterfall.

"San, do you realize how _dangerous_ this is?" I scolded as she scooted across the boulders. Santana shot me a look.

"Pan-sy," Santana sang, stepping on to the next rock. I scoffed, following after her. Santana gave me a tiny smirk before passing behind the rushing water. I squeezed my eyes shut and passed through, the pressure undeniably heavy on my back. When I opened my eyes, I saw Santana leaning casually on one of the rocks in the room-like area behind the waterfall, "Look what the cat dragged in." Santana said sarcastically, sitting cross-legged on a low rock. I sat down next to her, gaping at the noisy waterfall in front of us.

"This is amazing," I gasped, barely understandable through all of the deafening noise. She nodded, still able to hear me. She leaned her head on my shoulder, wrapping one arm around my back.

"I love you, Mike," Santana said quietly, holding me tight. I turned to look at her, dumbfounded.

"_What?_" I asked in disbelief, even though I totally heard her.

"I said, I love you," Santana repeated, "Deal with it."

"Well, if you really mean it, I love you, too," I said, looking her straight in the eye, "San, I don't think anyone has made me feel the way you do. It's pretty amazing. I thought I felt love before, but it was never like this." I explained, pouring my heart out. Santana's eyes softened.

"That was _so_ stereotypical, not to mention cheesy," She laughed, pulling me jokingly into her arms, "That's really sweet." She whispered in my ear, kissing me on the cheek. I hugged her back, sitting together behind the waterfall for a while before Santana decided that she wanted to get back into the water.

"Santana, you are _not_ going to jump off of this," I hissed, watching her squeeze her way back out from behind the waterfall. She winked at me, jumping off of the edge, "OH, MY GOD." I screeched at Santana fell, landing impeccably into the water.

"HEY, MIKE!" She yelled, waving up to me, "JUMP!" I wasn't going to lie, I did not want to jump off of that edge.

_God, Mike. Man up._

I did. I squeezed my eyes shut, drawing in a single breath before throwing myself helplessly off of the rock. I bit back a deep scream as my stomach dropped, flailing my arms and legs. All of the sudden, I hit the water, submerging myself deep under the surface. I flipped my eyes open, swimming quickly to the top. Santana was laughing hysterically, bouncing around in the clear, blue water.

"You look like such a scared little girl," Santana giggled, grabbing my hands under the water. She tightened her grip, kissing me happily on the neck. I returned it, hissing under my breath.

"I'm not a scared little girl," I laughed, trailing kisses from her collar bone back up to her lips again. She giggled breathily with each kiss, smiling brightly out of my view. She shook her head, whispering words in her defense. I started tickling her sides, sending her thrashing through the water.

"Okay! Okay!" She screamed, "You're not a scared little girl!" She screeched with laughter. I kept tickling her, soon getting a bite on my shoulder. I let go of her.

"San, what the hell!" I yelled jokingly, backing up a little bit. Santana kept laughing far after I stopped tickling her.

"Don't tickle me and I won't bite you!" She warned breathlessly, swimming back to the edge, "I'm cold and pruny. I'm getting out!" Santana called, pulling herself back up on the little ridge. She swung her thin legs in the water, making mini waves. The ripples traveled through the pool, reaching me as I swam toward her. I sat up next to her, mimicking her position, even swinging my feet. She leaned her head back on my shoulder, "This is nice."

"I know," I said, shivering against the gentle breeze. Santana stood up, groaning.

"We have to wait to dry off before we can do anything else," She whined, skipping a rock.

"Where did you learn how to skip rocks so well?" I asked her randomly, picking one up for myself. I tried to skip it, throwing it hopelessly into the water. She scoffed, grabbing my wrist and another rock. She shoved it in my hand, adjusting my fingers into the right position.

"Flick your wrist," She commanded breathily, nearly whispering. I did as she said, attempting not to screw it up. It skipped twice before disappearing into the clear pool, "I guess I've got lots of time on my hands when I am home." She said, putting her hands on her hips, staring ahead triumphantly at my rock skipping, "I became a total boss at this." That's when I actually started thinking hard.

Where _was _Santana going to go? I mean, I wasn't objecting to Santana staying at my house for a couple of days, but she couldn't stay here permanently. I don't think my mom and dad would appreciate that. I would have to ask her about it while trying not to sound like a jerk at the same time. I didn't want her to think I didn't want her to stick around, but-.

I sighed, defeated. My thoughts were in a never ending cycle of reversing themselves. Santana looked over at me, squinting and ruffling her eyebrows. She was halfway through skipping another rock before her attention was pasted on to her phone ringing in the pile of clothes. She jogged over to it, wincing at the rocks under her feet.

"Hello?" She answered in a way only Santana could, sassy and unapologetic. Suddenly, the happy look on her face was torn apart with pain. She grabbed her phone, walking out of my field of hearing. I waited in front of the pool, frozen in my place. I could hear Santana raise her voice, spitting something in Spanish. When she walked back, I saw tears building up in her eyes, attempting to blink them back, "We have to go, Mike."

"San, what's going on?" I asked cautiously, frantically searching her eyes.

"Just, come on," She blubbered, picking up her clothes.

"Can we get dressed first?"

"No."

With the last few distressed tears and hidden sobs, we were off.

**:O i wonder who it was...hahaha**

**i love you, cheetahs**

**you guys are the best.**


	7. Sides

Chapter 7: Sides

"Santana, you can't pull me out of somewhere unexpectedly and not tell me what's going on!" I yelled after arguing for several minutes, "You can't do that!" Santana finally shot a look back at me. She was hurt, I could tell. Her eyes burned with this odd type of pain where you could almost tell everything she wanted to say without saying any words.

"I can do whatever the hell I want!" She screeched, her eyes burning with a fiercer type of firey pain, "I'm Santana Lopez. No one has ever brought me down. Not even my father. No one." The outburst was kind of random, but I still lowered my head, not wanting to hurt her anymore. I reached for her hand, asking silently for forgiveness.

"San," I whispered, watching searing, angry tears spill down her cheeks. There was a hint of defeat in her face when she accepted my hand, "It's okay to be scared. I would be. I would probably be crying on the floor if I were you," I attempted to joke, awkwardly laughing as I went on, "Santana, you're the most amazing, strong, wonderful girl I know. It's okay to let down your walls and be scared once in a while. It's not like I don't get scared. I get scared a lot. You can be vulnerable." Santana nearly cut me off before I could finish my sentence.

"No, I can't. It's already wrong for me to be in love, Mike. It's totally wrong for me to be in love. I can't be...connected to anyone. Whenever I make a connection with anyone, they leave me. No one stays with me. You know that. My brother, my dad, everyone. You'll be next. I know you will," She blubbered, stepping back so she wouldn't throw her arms around me. Her eyes were burning holes in my face, trying to deconstruct everything I was feeling. She was begging for a reaction, almost like she was testing me. She wanted me to say something back. She was aching for me to hug her and tell her I wasn't going to leave her. I knew I wasn't. I loved her. I wouldn't do that to her.

"I love you, you know. I would never leave you like anyone has ever done. I will always be there for you. Always. Forever," I said, staring straight into her eyes. I stepped up, putting my hands on her waist. Santana relaxed her shoulders a little and gazed up at me.

"Really?" She asked quietly, wiping her eyes with her hands, "You're not just being sappy to get me to calm down?" I pulled her in, craning my head over her shoulder.

"Really," I replied, kissing her gently and meaningfully, the world piecing back together a little.

I think that kiss spoke 1000 words on it's own, Santana's face calming a little bit, even with the frown plastered on her lips. Somehow, Santana made me feel sure about everything. Even with everything falling apart around her, she still had that shield-like effect on me, making me feel perfectly content with life. Life just wasn't content with us.

"It's not fair, San," I whispered to her, my arms not loosening at all, "You don't deserve any of it. Not one little bit." I meant it all. I wasn't just trying to get her to completely relax in my arms again. She truly didn't deserve any of it. Yeah, Santana had not had been the picture of the perfectly good girl, but I knew under all of that steel, Santana was a truly good person. She just hid it all behind the wall. The wall I knew I would pummel someday. The wall I knew would take a little love and coaxing to take down, brick by brick.

"Yes, it is," She said simply, silencing my retaliation at the comment. Santana pulled away from me, wiping her eyes once more with her shirt that was hanging loosely off of her hand, "Look, I have to be honest with you, I guess." Sitting solemnly on a fallen log, she started to cry again. These weren't angry tears. They were defeated ones. They were Santana giving up. These were signaling the fight was over. My stomach lurched uncomfortably as I sat next to her, "I don't know how much longer I'm going to be here, Mike."

"What?" I almost yelled, attempting to silence myself, "What do you mean?" I was freaking out. She was having this whole speech about me not leaving her and now she's leaving me? What was I supposed to do then? I mean, I wasn't trying to say I was going to die without her or something like that. I wasn't girly or something. I just didn't want her to leave. I didn't want to have her in a place that I couldn't make sure she was okay.

"My grandma, the one that lives in New York, she wants me to come live with her. I don't know if I'm going to go, but I think I should. I have no where else, Mike. You and I both know I can't live with you forever," She cried, sniffling and whining. She tapped her foot nervously a little bit, looking down at the dirt.

"New York?" I almost choked, "That's forever away! I'll never see you!" Santana cried a bit harder, resting her head on my shoulder.

"I know," Santana coughed, "What are we going to do?" Her hand was tracing patterns on my back, probably not realizing she was doing it. Little hearts. Tiny, longing hearts, "I have to go." She said, realizing the ugly truth of it all, "You're not going to be with me. It's just like before."

"San," I whimpered, brushing the hair out of her face. She looked a teeny bit angry again.

"What? Do you have a better idea?"

"I guess-...I guess I really don't."

After we talked, we had to go back. I didn't want to argue. I wanted to piece everything back into place, put Santana back by my side, locked in Ohio. I didn't want her to leave.

The selfish side of me gritted my teeth, almost angry at Santana's grandma for taking her away from me.

The rational side of me knew that that was the only solution.

The lonely side of me gave me a few mental slaps for nearly crying about the news. I tried to snap out of it as quickly as I could. I couldn't cry over this. She was leaving, not dying. Still, it kind of felt like I wasn't going to see her again.

_God, Mike. You're so soft. You just let this whole thing walk all over you. What happened to you being a badass? What happened to you coming up with solutions to everything? What happened to you being smart and...good?_

I was soft. I was a big soft, softie. This wasn't even supposed to happen in the first place. I was just supposed to help her and then everything would be good again, right?

Wrong.

"I'm almost packed," Santana said softly, nearly fizzling on the phone. I could hear rustling papers in the background, along with the accompanying scratch of pen across it, "Tomorrow afternoon," She said even softer, the time hitting me like a ton of bricks.

"Just hurry back, okay?" I asked her, defeated. I had so much I wanted to say to her right then, but I knew it wouldn't have made sense for me to spill it all in front of her.

_Mike, toughen up_

We had school the next day, but I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep that night. My last night with Santana by my side. She didn't try to do anything. She just layed there, her hand curled up on my chest, body conforming perfectly to mine. Even when I would lean over to press a kiss to her forehead, Santana didn't even move. She just glanced up at me, swallowed and looked back away.

The next day was even harder than the night before. Puck, Finn, Matt, Artie and I were all sitting around in the choir room, waiting for the girls to get back from picking up sheet music...or something. I didn't really know.

"...Yeah, and I had to call Child Protection Services," I explained, trying to tell the story about the situation. Artie's mouth was hung open, Finn stared blankly, Finn and Matt looked like screaming while Puck furrowed his eyebrows. They didn't have much to say. They just clenched their fists and took it, something I couldn't say I could do. I couldn't. I wasn't tough enough to let her go.

"That's tough, man," Puck said, clearly trying to be supportive. He straightened his back up, obviously looking infuriated. I didn't understand how Puck could be so angry, but still make it look as if he was perfectly cool, like nothing was bothering him.

"Dude, are you okay?" I asked him, raising an eyebrow. Puck looked down at his shoes, getting a little awkward. That was rare.

"Look, man, I don't want it to seem like I am 'stealing your girl' or anything, but I care more about her than you think. I'm just a little worried, which is something I never do. Santana and I used to chill. I think she started it out being 'buddies' or some crap," He paused, "I don't even know. Anyway, then we did some crazy stuff or whatever and I guess we kind of fell in love or something, which is totally unlike my badass image, but you can't help love, right? Either way, she took me to this waterfall and told me that she loved me...I don't think I stopped loving her. Okay, it's all out there, now."

The breath tangled itself up in my throat. It was the same song and dance. _I _was the same song and dance. Were guys like me her prey? Stupid guys that would fall for all of her tricks?

The selfish side of me was telling me that it was all a lie. She loved me, right? She told me.

The rational side of me was telling me that it was all because she wanted that love. That love that she would go to all ends of the Earth for. That love that she would repeat over and over for that feeling of satisfaction.

The lonely side of me was betrayed.

I just nodded intently.

The girls came back, Santana taking her normal spot next to me, intertwining her fingers with mine. For a second, I insisted that what Puck was saying was merely coincidence. There is no way that I could just be a stepping stone on her way to the next guy. The way I remember her eyes sparkling a little when she would look at me, the way that she would smile like there was no tomorrow. She squeezed my hand and rubbed the back of it with her thumb, looking back into my eyes.

There's no way.

Before Santana left that night, I kept her in my arms a little tighter and longer than usual, just trying to retain that feeling of home. A few weeks later when she stopped answering my calls and becoming more vague, I knew it was over.

Our run was over.

I was just a stepping stone on her way to another person.

One night, I texted her quickly before going to sleep.

** They don't love you like I loved you.**

I didn't know if anything happened after that and I may have just been holding grudges, but I couldn't let her go. I hoped she was okay then, safe from what she had to deal with before. Before I even could close my eyes, my phone buzzed on the side table. I groaned, thinking it was Matt asking about pizza again. The two words that I read meant more than any other thing anyone could have said at that point.

**I know.**

_They don't love you like I loved you._

**So, it seems to be the end of the road. I love you guys. PLEASE do not hesitate to leave criticism, ideas, even love in the little review box. That would be lovely. **

**I love you all. You were all amazing. **


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